Across a Scorching Desert
by Juliafied
Summary: J'zargo has been a caravan guard for many years, ever since leaving his home village. However, he seeks to leave Elsweyr; study magic and become a powerful mage. However, the twists and turns of fate are never predictable... T for now, may become M for sexytimes later.
1. Chapter 1

**Across a Scorching Desert**

**Chapter 1**

The heat was scorching, but then again, he was used to it, padded paws pushing against the sands, leaving indentations that would soon vanish with the wind. He clutched his robe around him; though it was hot, he was nervous, and his belly full of unease.

"J'zargo! Where are you going?"

It seemed that Ahnassi had seen or heard him exit his tent; she peeked out from under hers as he glanced at her and growled, clearly annoyed at him. It was only understandable; it was almost noon and Ahnassi wished to sleep, as they all did near midday. The little tents near their two carts of merchandise formed a bleak picture in the endless dunes, and left them vulnerable in the sand. However, their stop in the middle of the desert was not likely to be attacked by any caravan raiders, and they all needed the rest and shelter from the sun.

"I don't know. I needed to think."

"Think inside, then! Regardless of whether you are sleeping or not, you should be near the caravan at all times!" Ahnassi seemed to debate with herself and decided to leap out onto the sand to follow J'zargo. He observed her easy movements as she bounded toward him, graceful even for a Khajiit.

Soon, she was close to him, and did not have to yell to communicate.

"J'zargo, don't wander off. S'shani dozed off a little while ago and I can't defend the merchandise alone. Why aren't you sleeping? It's nearly midday."

J'zargo flicked his tail, annoyed. "Like I said, I had to think."

"Well," Ahnassi stopped, then bared her teeth in a smile. "Come, think in my tent. I have a few cakes left over from the other day, and a bit of moon sugar. We can eat some of it and then you can do your thinking, alright?"

J'zargo shrugged and flexed his arms. "Why not?"

As he and Ahnassi walked back to her tent, he let his right hand graze the hilt of the blade at his hip. He had received it at his coming of age, years ago, from his father, who was long gone. It was an old elven relic, improved many times over the years. Had it only been three? It felt so much longer than that...

Ahnassi unfastened the clasps of her tent and J'zargo briefly looked across the sand to his. It looked as undisturbed as he had left it; no pegs dislodged or flaps waving the wrong way. In the desert, a Khajiit's only shelter was his tent. He could not afford to have his damaged, for they had a long journey ahead.

Stepping into the large tent, J'zargo removed his leather boots and placed them on the special mat by the tent-flap. He adjusted the various herbs and potion flasks hanging on his _rabi_, and noticed that S'shani was still asleep, sighing softly. Ahnassi's husband was a formidable warrior, known in his hometown for his extraordinary strength and agility. J'zargo could never best him in barehanded combat, but looking at him lying there, peacefully asleep, reminded J'zargo of when he had still been a kitten, and he longed for the simplicity of childhood.

"So," said Ahnassi in a low voice, "what are these things you are thinking about, hmm? That make you walk off into the Ne Quin-Al without a crumb in your pack?"

Sitting down on the mat in the living area of the tent, a few paces away from the sleeping S'shani, Ahnassi withdrew a sweet roll from the satchel on her shoulder and a glass jar containing moon sugar. Laying the roll on a plate perching on a low table, she opened the jar and sprinkled the roll with sugar delicately with her fingers. Breaking it in two, Ahnassi passed one half of the roll to J'zargo. He accepted it and murmured a word of thanks before starting to nibble on it.

"I only put a little. Can't afford to be completely over the moon if you wish to sleep, hmm?"

J'zargo nodded and sighed.

"I was thinking about how my younger days are dwindling away, and all I am is a caravan guard."

Ahnassi gave him a strange look.

"Not that it doesn't pay well, but, I am skilled enough. I would like to go somewhere in the world, learn of new people and new places."

The woman across from him chuckled. "And where would you go? Valenwood? To frolic with the Bosmer?"

J'zargo furrowed his brow. "No, not to Valenwood. Perhaps go to Morrowind. Or perhaps even make my way to Skyrim. The tales sing of great beauty in the snow-ridden peaks. I have never seen snow, Ahnassi. Perhaps I should, at least once."

Now Ahnassi laughed outright. "A Khajiit, freezing his tail off in Skyrim? You were born with the heat. That much cold just might bite you enough to kill."

J'zargo felt himself grow defensive and snapped, "There are Khajiit traders in Skyrim. Perhaps I should guard their caravans, and not yours. Where are we going again? Making the mighty trek across the desert, and for what? To sell skooma to the poor addicts in Rimmen? What's the point to all of it, Ahnassi? How much money until you can settle down and live a happy life, have children, be at peace, like you've always wanted?"

She narrowed her eyes and her voice dropped to a whisper. He had struck a nerve, he knew, and he shouldn't have. "Only a few more years, and you know that, J'zargo. Then we can all be happy, and you can find some nice girl who is fierce enough for you."

"I don't want a girl. I don't want a peaceful life, the same, day in, day out, in Rimmen or anywhere else. I want something more out of life! I don't want to waste away!"

Frustrated, J'zargo held out his empty palm and concentrated. "You see this?" A tiny flame popped up, dancing a few millimeters above his fur. "This is a gift from Baan Dar, the trickster, he who gives us Khajiit our last minute strokes of genius and cleverness, so that we always evade our enemies. Magic, the power to command the elements, or to manipulate the very folds that separate us from Oblivion, the greatest trick of all. And what am I doing, blessed with this power? I am guarding caravans with my sword and my shield, a sell-sword for hire."

He put out the flame and put his hand down. "That is what I have been thinking about, Ahnassi. About how maybe, I was meant to be more than this."

Ahnassi gazed at the space where his hand had been a moment earlier, and sighed. "This is indeed much to think about, J'zargo. What would you do? Travel to Summerset Isle, study under the Altmer?" She furrowed her brow. "They do not take kindly to other races much. Perhaps to the north, to High Rock, to live among the Bretons? They are powerful magicians. But it is far, very far..."

"Yes, it is far, but farther still my spirit will be from me if I stay a caravan guard my whole life."

Ahnassi crossed her arms, and let out a breath slowly. "J'zargo, stay with us to guard the goods to Rimmen. There, you can speak to my mother. She has seen many years and many Khajiit gifted with magic in her time. Perhaps she can give you some words to advise you."

J'zargo thought about it. Ahnassi's plan was sound, and though he had never met her mother, the stories told of a powerful warrior and Clan Mother, who spoke with the conviction of a fool and the wisdom of a scholar. That she had allowed Ahnassi to marry a caravan trader had always astounded him. Usually, Clan Mothers' children continued the long tradition of making skooma from moon sand. Perhaps Ahnassi was the youngest sister, and had been allowed to escape the skooma cultivation, to wander the desert. J'zargo did not know much about her, only that she had a sharp tongue and was a fierce bargainer. He wondered how she had managed to keep in good relations with her mother, even though it was clear that she did not share her wealth with Ahnassi.

The corners of his lips curled upwards. "Very well. It wouldn't do to quit this job halfway through, either, would it?"

Ahnassi peered at him critically. "No, it would not. Now, finish your sweet roll and go to sleep. I will stand guard over the merchandise. You need to sleep and let the moons guide you to your fate."

"Very well."

J'zargo munched on the roll, and, swallowing it, exited the tent, into the bleakness of the desert.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
>(in this one, they go on on their journey, and J'zargo demonstrates his lack of skills with magic beyond the summoning of a flame, when they are beset by caravan raiders. having left his other blade in his tent, he tries to use flames to hurt the bandits along with his sword, with varying results. by the end of the chapter, it is night again, and now J'zargo has a meaningful conversation about what it means to be a warrior with S'shani.)<p>

J'zargo rose later that afternoon with the sun already having set and the sand quickly cooling down. Ahnassi had woken him, ensuring to remind him to take down his tent as quickly as possible. While he had slept, he had dreamed... and his dreams were no less troubled than his thoughts, full of visions of fire and ice, and a word that called out at him, _destruction_...

He took his sack of clothing out of his tent and folded it in his practiced fashion, quickly and nimbly. Putting his clothes and the rolled up tent in his pack, he tested the weight on his shoulders and deemed it acceptable.

Ahnassi tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "Are you ready to depart?"

"Yes," he said simply. She turned away, and he followed her to the two carts of goods that they were toting to Rimmen. S'shani stood by them, the picture of the Khajiit warrior, his hand on the pommel of his sword. It was enchanted, and had been made for him in his home village. J'zargo had seen its effect in battle, paired with the warrior's skill, and it was astounding. J'zargo hoped to someday learn to enchant weaponry like S'shani's. He thought there was perhaps much money to be made with this skill.

"J'zargo! Sleep well?" called out S'shani, grinning.

"Well enough, and you?"

"You would not believe what dreams came to me. Many moons go by but the Khajiit do not dream of such things as vast waters and beautiful mountains, peaked with snow. But I did. So I did."

"You are a strange one, S'shani."

"I do not disagree. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Let us go, I do not like the thoughts that lie restless in this place."

S'shani shrugged. "So be it. Ahnassi, is the tent ready? I loaded the cots and supplies onto one of the carts."

"Yes, I have packed it already. All that remains is to hitch up the Senche."

J'zargo thought, and not for the first time, of the lives the Khajiit caravan animals were forced to lead. They were sentient beings, intelligent; not mere pack mules, for all their size and strength. However, they could not speak, and therefore could not share their thoughts. Jode and Jove had spoken at their birth, and so the Senche were forced to be mere mounts and pack animals. J'zargo tried his best to be kind to both the Senche that pulled the caravan carts, but he could sense their anger and bitterness toward the two-legged Khajiit that surrounded them.

"J'zargo, will you do it?" Ahnassi asked, looking critically at him.

"Very well, Ahnassi. And then leave."

As he attached the first Senche, named Ameq'in, for his fierce stamina, J'zargo thought sardonically of how if they got the chance, their two pack animals would most likely turn on them. Though four-legged, they were as powerful as mammoths, and twice as fast.

He whispered to Ameq'in, after having hitched him to their cart of skooma and moon sugar, and the Senche began to walk slowly forward. J'zargo did the same to the second Senche, and watched as Khala followed the other cart.

"And so we go," S'shani remarked, walking up beside J'zargo.

"So we do," he said by way of reply, and nodded.

-

The journey was long and the night longer, the coolness of the evening giving way to the chill of the night. The sand was still slightly warm under J'zargo's padded feet. However, the heat of the day would soon fade, and nights in the Ne-Quin Al were as cold as the days were hot. They had to make good time, though, and so J'zargo donned his warmer cloak and trudged on beside the caravan, hand on his sword and trying to keep his mind sharp. He thought of Ahnassi's mother, and whether she would give him the advice he sought. He did not think that he should rely only on her advice, but it would be interesting to see what she would say. Very wise, the stories told of the female Khajiit, and equal parts dangerous.

As the moon rose high in the starry sky, Ahnassi cheerfully called out her sighting of the tell-tale sign of an oasis village where they could trade their non-skooma-related goods. All was well. In the next moment, however, darkness overstepped its bounds and spilled into their path.

A pack of desert bandits leapt out from behind the dune the caravan had just passed and went for Ahnassi, swords drawn. She smiled grimly and drew the daggers at her waist, simultaneously to S'shani's drawn longsword. Parrying the blow that would have severed a wrist, she snarled and leapt away from the attacker. "Ahnassi has seen warriors stronger than you in the whorehouse, now fight!" J'zargo chuckled as he drew his own two blades and rolled away from his opponent, who was approaching him menacingly, curved sword drawn.

"Oh ho, so you want to dance, do you?" J'zargo called, and teeth bared, thrusted his dagger at the man's side. He in turn evaded the attack, and swiped at J'zargo's head. Ducking swiftly, J'zargo aimed a clawed kick at the other Khajiit's calf and heard the sound of skin tearing. Momentarily distracted, the attacker let his guard down and lowered his sword a few inches.

"That was a mistake," J'zargo muttered as he sliced the man's throat.

Another bandit appeared just as the second crumpled into the sand, and J'zargo jumped on top of one of the carts to evade the foe as he swung at him with a greatsword. Where the Khajiit had learned to wield a greatsword, he would never know, but the man was clearly brawny and a little slow. J'zargo took his dagger and, glancing around for any bowmen to shoot him in his high position, leapt down at the muscled Khajiit before he could recover from his failed blow.

_Two and not even a scratch_, J'zargo thought, and wondered if he was beating S'shani. No doubt the warrior had slain at least four foes already.

Making a split-second decision to switch his blades to a bow he had thankfully strapped onto his back just in case, J'zargo jumped back onto the cart to pick off the bandits from up high. He had never been a very good hunter, but his marksmanship was good enough, and no one would be paying attention to him down below. He surveyed the circumstances below. S'shani and Ahnassi were battling back to back, surrounded by no less than six bandits. J'zargo had to be careful not to accidentally shoot one of them as they did the dance of death on what had become the battlefield. He aimed, and shot one man straight through the eye. He crumpled.

_Not bad, J'zargo..._

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a scuffling step in the sand below the cart.

A young Bosmer woman pointed a bow straight at him as she came into range. Panicked, he reached for his blades, forgetting he had left them on the ground.

"No!" he yelled, and amazingly, the woman did not shoot, momentarily confused by his reaction.

He reached deep within himself and summoned the flow of magic that resided deep within him. He called into his soul and searched for the essence of flame, the spirit of which was both free and destructive. J'zargo felt it all the way from his heart into his hands and there, the destruction that was fire erupted, straight into the face of the Bosmer.

Shocked, J'zargo leapt back and watched as her clothes set afire and the skin on her face blackened. He felt the urge to vomit, but swallowed, knowing he could not afford to throw up now. Enemies were still about. J'zargo suppressed what he had just seen and reached for his bow, which he had thrown behind him right before killing the Bosmer.

He turned back to the battle waging between S'shani and Ahnassi, and the leftover bandits. There were only two of them left, and J'zargo watched as S'shani executed them both in one sweeping blow.

Jumping down from the cart, he walked toward them, staying on his guard for any more bandits that might have been smarter and waited to attack them. There didn't seem to be any; it was strange, how silent the desert could be where before, there had been utter chaos.

As J'zargo approached them, he could see that they were both breathing heavily, and that Ahnassi had blood on her lip. Otherwise, the two seemed relatively unharmed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, to be sure.

"Yes. I think that was the last of them," Ahnassi said, and sighed. "I am tired of caravan raiders."

"As am I," S'shani growled. "Now let us make a profit from them as they would have done to us."

J'zargo nodded and followed S'shani as he inspected the bodies for anything useful. They found quite a bit of gold, a few arrows, and a full set of leather armour that was almost undamaged by the fight. S'shani would be able to improve it and sell it for a nice sum at the oasis town.

They had found a few good-quality daggers when they came across the cart where J'zargo had set the Bosmer aflame and found her burnt corpse lying nearby.

"Strange, hmm, fire in a battle? Looks like a mage's work to me…" S'shani eyed J'zargo sardonically as he picked through the Mer's burnt clothing. Some of it was still smoking. "This one has a nice elven bow. Dagger, too. It'll sell nicely."

J'zargo stood back, looking at the bow in S'shani's hands.

"It was me, you know," he said quietly.

"I thought so. I hardly think that Ahnassi commands the powers of the elements. Hmm, yes, J'zargo, you may be young yet, but a mighty warrior you will be. Swinging a greatsword is not all it takes to be a warrior."

J'zargo chuckled. "And I thought that was the only thing."

S'shani smiled, somewhat sadly. "No, it is not. Being a warrior, a _true_ warrior, is to battle on even when you are sure to die, if it is for something you love. To be a warrior, you must push yourself, beyond when your muscles are screaming to stop, and your mind cannot go on, and you are depleted beyond belief, simply because _you are a warrior_. For the true warrior does not give up."

"And what else?" asked J'zargo wryly.

"You are a smart one, you. What else? A true warrior also always plays his strengths. What are your strengths, J'zargo? When the time comes, will you play them?"

J'zargo merely smiled and walked away, grabbing some of the loot to bring it to Ahnassi.

The lights of the oasis city shone on in the distance. They would be there by morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_**A/N: **__Sorry for the extremely long time to update, I hope you are all still there and still willing to read! I promise I'll be quicker to update now, at least for the summer since school isn't eating my brain. Chapter 4 is already in the works, so stay tuned!_

Mornings in an oasis town were always busy, filled with the sights and sounds of its citizens going about their business almost at the crack of dawn, but this city seemed to J'zargo more enterprising than most that he'd visited. He had awoken to the sounds of the bustling market, already busy shortly after the twin moons had set. J'zargo was hardly a late riser, even an early one to some, but clearly not to the citizens of Va'Khaj.

He, Ahnassi and S'shani had set up their tents a meagre three hours before the city awakened. They had made good time across the sands, giving them a few hours of sleep in the camp area of the town. Such an area was common for oasis villages, it was where the merchants, sellswords and caravans passing through stayed the night. The permanent residents could probably be estimated as less than ten; the Khajiit running the dilapidated inn, and any clan members of the tribe that occupied the surrounding territory, usually there as constant lookouts. J'zargo had run into such beings a few times passing through other oasis-based villages; they could either be fearsome, battle-worn warriors, or candid youngsters to laugh with over a bottle of skooma.

Of course, J'zargo rarely touched the stuff, but it was a fun diversion every once in awhile.

Now, J'zargo was manning their shoddily-assembled stall, and bartering their wares as best he could. Really, Ahnassi was the true merchant amongst the three of them, but she was off buying supplies for the road north. The town's market was small but filled with people looking for supplies, weapons, armour, and sellswords for hire. A company of the latter had stationed themselves close to J'zargo's stall. They were Redguards, probably hailing from somewhere in northern Hammerfell. J'zargo listened to their friendly, competitive banter as he watched the mostly Khajiit crowd sweep past, money-bags either full or sorely depleted.

A beautifully dappled young Khajiit caught his eye while she was lingering over some pots in another stall, and smiling to himself, he called out, "Jewelry for the beautiful lady!"

He gestured for the small rack of jewelry they had for sale. Their gazes met and she approached his stall, almond-shaped eyes shining.

"I do not wear much jewelry, but perhaps there is something else in your stall that I might be interested in."

When she spoke, she barely bothered to conceal the purr of pleasure in her voice. Most Khajiit talked like this but her tone was more velvety than most.

She wore the traditional rabi, though in more sumptuous cloth than the layman could afford, and she had a golden tinge to her fur that suggested noble birth, or at least rich parents.

"Perhaps there might be," J'zargo said, trying to maintain his attitude as an honest shopkeep. "We have a small collection of various types of daggers, would you like to view those?"

She nodded, not once breaking eye contact.

J'zargo looked away and retrieved the display case from behind the stall. They did have quite a nice collection, with the elven dagger from the night before and a few small glass ones. The woman looked them over for a few minutes, and finally selected one of the glass ones.

She paid and asked, quietly, "Do you run this stall alone, merchant?"

"I am but a merchant's guard, but no, I do not," J'zargo answered, smiling to himself. Generally, he knew what came after this. It had been a long time...

"Very well. My name is Abhanji. Perhaps I will be seeing you later, caravan guard."

She walked off and he watched her leave, wondering why she hadn't asked for his name.

By now the earlier hustle-bustle was winding down as the sun grew hotter. Ahnassi would probably return soon and relieve him of the duty of guarding the stall for the day, replacing it with the duty of relieving S'shani, who was guarding their leftover supplies and the Senche... or perhaps pursuing other interests. Unlike most other traders that he'd worked for, Ahnassi was fairly lenient in her distribution of free time. They would all probably be napping by noon, the midday heat was difficult to withstand otherwise. What did it matter whether he was napping in his own tent? Or for that matter, napping at all?

He almost dozed off then and there, when a member of the Redguard company of sellswords sauntered up to his booth. It was a woman, he realized after a closer look, clothed in strong leather boots and a Redguard habit of earthy hues. She wore a white desert veil against the heat and an amulet of some kind, shining in the sunlight.

"I'm looking for some armour," she said as she approached the stall. "What's the best you have?"

"I have some high-quality leathers, newly improved."

"Hmm, can I take a look?"

The Redguard had a scimitar hung comfortably at her hip and she put her hand there, toying with the pommel.

J'zargo found the armour amid their wares and presented it to the Redguard.

"We have a smith that can fit you to it, and if that doesn't suit you, there are others in the market who can alter it," he said casually, thinking that this could be a very good profit for Ahnassi. Loot always sold the best, they all found.

"It's in good shape, and altering it shouldn't be too hard..." the woman said thoughtfully, eyeing the armour and checking the clasps and fastenings expertly. "Do you have the set or just the cuirass?"

"Just the cuirass. If you don't mind being mismatched, we also have a pair of elven gauntlets."

"No, that's quite alright. I don't really need anything but a helm."

J'zargo had an idea. "Well, we do have this helmet from Skyrim. It's primitive but it gets the job done if you don't mind heavy armour."

He fetched the steel helmet, with its ridiculous horns. Honestly, he had no idea where Ahnassi had gotten this one, but good steel was expensive, and this woman seemed willing to pay. Though it was true that Redguards often harboured resentment for the Nords...

However, this Redguard just nodded. "I'll give you 400 for them both."

Now this was the part that J'zargo disliked the most. Bartering. He wasn't a damned shopkeeper and he would never be, so he liked it better when people like Abhanji just paid full price and left it at that. Putting on his best insulted expression, he frowned.

"You hurt me, dear lady. 400, for an exquisite set such as this? And the helmet, imported from the north through others' sweat and tears? I will give it to you for 700, and not a penny less."

Suprisingly, the Redguard laughed. "Doubtless this is all loot from caravan raiders. 450."

"For you, 650. Deal? Deal. I will throw in the alteration for 50 as well. It is a very good deal."

She looked amused. "Alright, I'll take that, but for 500."

"600."

He had her now. It was a very good price and S'shani would alter it for her very well. His craftsmanship was very good, renowned in their home village.

"Fine, fine, you've robbed me, but I accept." She laid the money on the counter of the stall. "600 septims."

J'zargo counted carefully and placed the money in the strongbox hidden below the counter. "I will notify our smith as soon as I can. If you come back here in the evening, he will be able to wait for you. What did you say your name was?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a few seconds, she answered, "Zina."

So she was going with a false name, then? No matter, it wasn't up to J'zargo to question people when he was selling to them.

"Very well, Zina, I will notify our smith of your coming. Come back at sunset and ask for S'shani, alright?"

Zina nodded and picked up the armour and helm. "Alright."

With a wistful smile she placed the helm on her head and went back to her sellsword companions. "Look what I just bought," she called out, and was greeted with good-hearted chortling.

J'zargo made a mental note to tell Ahnassi to tell S'shani about her. He waited for another fifteen minutes, no more customers, until Ahnassi strode up to the stall. She was carrying a few large sacks of goods, and her money satchel looked sorely depleted.

"Hello J'zargo, how is business?"

He smiled at her and placed the strongbox on the counter.

"We've made about 900 gold, give or take a dozen."

Ahnassi scowled. "I've spent nearly that much! Oh J'zargo, you really are hopeless at peddling wares. Good thing I'm selling this evening."

J'zargo wasn't fazed by her negative reply. She never thought how much he sold was enough, and that was fine by him, seeing as he was not a good merchant.

"Sorry, Ahnassi. I'll push harder next time."

"How much did you sell the armour for?" she asked, after making a quick inventory of their goods.

"600 with alterations."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least you didn't give it away. Oh well. I'll tell S'shani to look for the customer. What was his name?"

"Zina, _she_ is a Redguard, probably a sellsword or mercenary or something." He glanced over to where her company had been, but they were no longer there. "I sold her the Nordic helm too."

"Oh, we've been robbed. All that for 600 gold? She must have walked away happy."

"She wanted to give me 400. Be thankful I didn't take that deal, Ahnassi."

"Hmph. Fine. You can go nap now. Make sure you tell S'shani about this Zina coming by," Ahnassi said, sighing. "I'll be around here if you need me."

J'zargo nimbly leapt from behind the counter out into the market. Ahnassi replaced him behind the stall and remembered Abhanji and her almond-shaped eyes. "Actually, Ahnassi, could you tell him yourself? As a favor. I have some, ah, unfinished business to attend to."

Ahnassi busied herself counting the money and asked, "What's her name?"

J'zargo looked down, embarrassed. "Abhanji."

"Well, make sure you're back by twilight, we'll be packing up by then."

He nodded and walked off. After asking around, he found out that the inn was east of the marketplace. He had a feeling that the innkeeper would know who Abhanji was and where to find her. If not, he was sure she would find him.

He headed to the inn, which was more of a permanent pavilion, and approached the man behind the counter. The innkeep was shrewd-looking and of tall stature for a Khajiit, approximately a head taller than J'zargo.

"Yes?" he asked, as J'zargo approached the counter.

J'zargo contemplated asking him about some alchemical ingredients, but decided not to. Better to ask for the potions themselves. "Any healing potions?"

"I have a few. Take a look."

The tall man ducked under the bar and withdrew several healing and regeneration potions. He also withdrew a potion that J'zargo didn't recognize.

"I'll take two of the healing potions," he said, eyeing the strange potion quizzically. "What is that potion there?"

The innkeep shrugged. "Vendor said it was a mage potion. Enhances destruction and whatnot. I haven't been able to sell it, not many mages coming through these parts."

"Ah." J'zargo paid for his healing potions, and stared at the destruction elixir. "I'll take it then."

The innkeeper eyed him suspiciously. "You don't look like a mage."

"No, I'm not, but there's one in my party, and he was asking about potions like this. It might interest him."

The tall Khajiit shrugged again. "Alright then, just don't let him burn down any buildings," he said with a smirk.

"Of course. What buildings are there to burn down?"

They both chuckled and exchanged money for potion.

"Say, you wouldn't know where a woman named Abhanji has her tent, would you?"

"Sure I do. It's the big-ish one, just go left after the exit."

"Thank you."

As J'zargo went out the flap that was the door of the inn, clutching the rucksack where he had put his potions, and was greeted with a veiled Khajiit, donned in black, almost sheer material.

"J'zargo, is it?"

Her tail curled around his ankle.

"Abhanji," he said, by way of greeting.

"Now, why don't you follow me, and I'll show you the true hospitality of Va'Khaj."

He grinned. "I don't see why not..."

And so he followed her, rucksack in hand, to a sumptuous tent smelling of incense. Yes, it had been a long time since the last oasis town, and there was always someone or other looking to get laid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

J'zargo awoke with a woman's arms curled firmly around his chest. He was surrounded by velvety material, the smell of incense and desire, and a burning recollection that it was probably past twilight, which was when Ahnassi would be expecting him.

He untangled himself from the sheets and Abhanji's arms, she purring at the disruption. Glancing up at the ceiling, he noticed that the skylight showed hues of pink and red sky and not darkness. J'zargo relaxed then and allowed himself to lie back down. He began to trace light patterns in the silky fur of Abhanji's stomach. She really was a beautiful one, her almond-shaped eyes the greenest he'd ever seen, and her fur like softly dappled sunlight, tipped with molten gold. She purred at his touch and he sighed. He would probably have to leave soon to help Ahnassi pack up their wares.

He started to get up but Abhanji reached for his torso and tugged him back down.

"Don't go," she murmured, her eyes half-closed and her breath sweet against his neck.

"I have to go help the merchant who hired me pack up. We're leaving at twilight," J'zargo said impatiently.

"Hmph. Alright. Go then. Where is your caravan going?"

"Rimmen, why?"

"If you ever get the chance, ask around the Golden Palace for me," Abhanji said sleepily.

"The Golden Palace? What's that?"

It better not be a whorehouse, J'zargo thought.

"You'll figure it out when you get there."

Most mornings (or evenings, as it was) when J'zargo woke up in a woman's room were like this; he didn't slink off like some lowly creature, but rather he said his goodbyes and made it clear they would probably not see each other again, and would go about his day. He had never really understood the disgusted attitude towards sex among the other races; it was a pleasurable activity like any other, was it not? Shunning those who participated was as silly as condemning partakers of good food, or those who liked wine for its decadent taste. And everyone was going to do it anyway, so why the shame?

He got up, without interference this time, stretched, and put on his breeches, which had been strewn about the room with the rest of his clothes. Abhanji really was a fantastic lover; he was sad to have to leave. J'zargo had encountered few as beautiful as her. Well, if what she said was true, he could possibly look her up when they went to Rimmen, if time allowed. He looked over at her on her bed and she had already fallen back asleep. Replacing the rest of his garments and grabbing his bag of potions, he began to exit the tent, but paused while passing by Abhanji's bed. He bent and kissed her gently on the forehead, then left the tent.

He /really/ hoped the Golden Palace wasn't a whorehouse. J'zargo had never had to resort to coin to seek his pleasures before, and he didn't want to start now.

Nimbly making his way through the alleys formed by tents, J'zargo observed the sun glowing orange, then disappearing from the desert sky. That was good, he supposed. Maybe he would be able to see whether the Redguard woman who had bought the armour this morning was satisfied with S'shani's alterations.

He headed to the market and glimpsed the Redguard woman chatting with Ahnassi. Zina, was that her name? Yes, that was definitely what she had said. It wasn't her real name, he realized, remembering her hesitation, but she had paid them, so it didn't make a difference.

He caught a tidbit of their conversation as he drew near.

"You say you have been to Rimmen, Zina?" asked Ahnassi, loading some supplies into their already hitched cart.

"Here, let me help you with that," the Redguard said, taking the crate from the Khajiit woman and placing into the cart. "And yes, I've been pretty much everywhere. Such is the life of a mercenary, though I can't say I complain. The pay is good enough and I have travelled all the way to Black Marsh from my homeland."

This portrait of the Redguard warrior woman was markedly different from the one he had seen earlier today. She seemed eager to tell of her adventures, eyes blazing, chattering excitedly to Ahnassi, whereas before she had been cool, a hardened warrior who knew what she was doing at all times.

"Are you going north as well, then?" Ahnassi asked, nodding her thanks for Zina's help.

"Maybe eventually. We'll probably stick around here, look for a caravan to guard, that sort of thing. Bandits are commonplace on the trade route north to Rimmen, as I'm sure you know." She spoke lightly and quickly to Ahnassi, clearly having mastered the Khajiit language, unusual for anyone not born in Elsweyr. He could barely detect her accent, actually, and the lilt in her speech could be mistaken for simply a mannerism.

J'zargo chose that moment to sidle up to the carts and run his hands through Ameq'in's thick fur, trying to calm him. He was clearly unhappy with the holdup and when Senche grew unhappy, the road grew increasingly difficult.

"You have no idea," Ahnassi said with a laugh, and noticed J'zargo. "Oh, you're back early. I'd have thought you would be chasing tails until at least twilight."

"My business took care of itself in less time than you allowed me, I'm afraid. And it would hardly be fair to make you pack up alone," J'zargo said with a smile.

"I am hardly alone, as you can see," said Ahnassi, with a slight smirk.

"I see indeed." Speaking to Zina, he said, "I hope you found S'shani's services satisfactory? He is a talented smith, the best I know."

"Yes, the armour fits perfectly now," she answered with a grin. "My brothers were impressed with the result."

"Yes, well, that's our S'shani. You speak the language very well, by the way," complimented Ahnassi. "J'zargo, could you perhaps help me load the cart and not stand there uselessly?"

"But of course, Ahnassi. I am well rested and ready to work," he said with a wink and proceeded to load crates of supplies and goods into the cart. "Where is S'shani, by the way?"

"Packing the tents, though you hardly used yours," Ahnassi retorted.

Soon, with Zina's help, they were finished loading the cart and all that was left was to pack was the stall itself.

"Well, I must be going, but if we run into each other on the road, be sure to say hello, Ahnassi!" Zina said, and waved goodbye to J'zargo.

As soon as she was gone, he turned to Ahnassi, his earlier good mood evaporated. "What in Oblivion did you do to her?"

Ahnassi chuckled. "Women converse differently with friends than with people who are trying to get their money, J'zargo."

He rolled his eyes and started taking apart their booth. "By the Twin Moons, I didn't think she would stop talking. Really, telling her we were going to Rimmen? Her 'company of sellswords' could very well be a pack of bandits," he growled, scowling.

Ahnassi chuckled again. "They could, but they aren't. She was clearly of the warrior caste of Hammerfell. Didn't you notice her Forebear amulet? Forged in Stros M'kai, those are, and only for the warrior high class. She probably comes from an important Forebear family in Hammerfell. She is most likely a younger daughter or something like that, to be allowed to roam in Elsweyr as a sellsword."

J'zargo snorted and finished packing up the booth with Ahnassi's steady hands to help. "Or, she's a bandit, ready to follow us and slit our throats as soon as we fade out of sight of the oasis."

"Unlikely."

"What are you two women arguing about again?"

J'zargo bristled at S'shani's arrival. He was leading the other Senche with their tents in the cart it was tugging.

"The young one here thinks that the kind warrior whose armour you altered earlier is a bandit ready to slit our throats," laughed Ahnassi.

"Impossible," S'shani said quietly. "Forebear from Hammerfell, I'd recognize that amulet anywhere."

"Since when are all of you so knowledgeable about damn foreign culture, dammit?" J'zargo grumbled. "Fine, fine. Let's just get going already. I still think we should be careful."

"We always are!"

J'zargo saddled Ameq'in and leapt onto the Senche, shaking his head. "No reason you two should be in such a damn good mood anyway," he muttered to himself.

S'shani mirrored J'zargo's actions and got into Khala's saddle himself, while Ahnassi sat in the cart Khala was pulling.

"You're not the only one who can have some fun on his break, J'zargo. Anyway, everyone, weapons accessible?"

J'zargo nodded, and so did S'shani.

"So we're off!" exclaimed Ahnassi jovially, with a grin on her face. "We aren't stopping until morning so everyone's bladders better be empty!"

Sometimes, J'zargo felt as if their caravan was somewhat of a family. This was not one of those times.


End file.
